


Trouble at The Rusty Spur

by DawnHawkes



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-23 01:14:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20883734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DawnHawkes/pseuds/DawnHawkes
Summary: Warning: Violent content and adult language





	Trouble at The Rusty Spur

There was something about these storms that always took her back to that night. The memories had replayed in her mind as she sat at the bar nursing a shot glass of whiskey. At one time, she had been able to allow herself to get caught up in these moments of nostalgia, but not so much anymore. Anyone who knew her, and a most of those who didn’t could tell that she was hyper-aware of what was going on around her, her ear flicking and turning faintly at sounds within. The group of men in the corner playing cards, the occasional coquettish laugh of a woman sitting on a patron’s lap, the clinking of glasses. At moments like these, the memories were an unwelcome distraction, and so the ranger did the best to push them aside as she heard the scrape of boots approaching across the wood floor.  
  
She could smell him before he reached her, cheap alcohol and even cheaper cigars. The odor made her want to curl her nose in distaste, but she kept her expression neutral and her gaze on her glass. That was, until the man put his hand over the top of it.  
  
Slowly, she leveled her lavender gaze with the stranger, her brows knitting faintly together. “Problem?” Her unusual accent, a mixture of her homeland and her time in Gridania, was thick due to the drink.  
  
“Yeah… you be sitting on my favorite stool.” The man drawled, his proximity making it that much harder for her not to scrunch up her nose. How could he not smell himself? She did the best she could not to gag. The least he could do was have better taste in spirits and smokes.  
  
The Viera tilted her head at him, maintaining a blank expression. “Really? I wasn’t aware that this bar had assigned seating.”  
  
“You mockin me, girlie?”

“Twelve forfend, I wouldn’t dream of it. I was merely remarking on how ironic it is that the seat had no name on it.” She raised her arms in a shrug. “Alas, I was here first, and there are plenty of other seats to be had at the moment. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish my drink.”  
  
She wouldn’t normally have baited the man, but there were many factors that lead to her decision that she quite frankly didn’t give a shit tonight. Weather, her work, the lingering memories and the alcohol had lead to a bad humor. The man appeared to take offense to her attitude and put his finger in her face.  
  
“You want to start somethin? I ain’t above hitting a woman.”

The bar seemed to go unnaturally quiet at that statement as everyone waited to see what was going to happen next, the room charged with a mixture of tension and excitement. Rune tilted her head at him again, raising a brow, then snorted softly and shook her head at the midlander. “Go home, pops. Sleep off these delusions of yours, before you get hurt.”  
  
It was cheeky of her to call him pops, given the fact that she was most likely at least two decades older than him if she guessed right. The ranger also knew the likelihood that her words would only provoke him, but once more she didn’t care. He wanted a fight? She could give him one. She’d just intended to let him make the first move.  
  
And then he made a mistake.  
  
“You little cunt-”  
  
She took one deep breath in and let it out, but it didn’t help. Removing her hand from the glass that he still blocked with his own, she shifted to stand to her full height, towering above the man. Reaching out, she gripped him by the front of his filthy shirt and lifted him off the ground with little effort, much to the chagrin of two other men who might have been his friends. The other two approached, warning her to put him down and yelling obscenities. Using her other hand to aid her, she pitched the man into a nearby table with all the force she had, sending him careening into customers. The altercation seemed to raise the crowd, the room filled with the din of jeers, cheers, and laughing.  
  
The ones who had come to the other man’s defense launched themselves at her in tandem. A whiskey bottle across the head dealt with the one, sending him stumbling back clutching his wound. The other managed to land a blow to her face, almost spinning her around. As he came at her, she dodged him as carefully as she could while still seeing stars, gripped the back of his head and slammed his face hard into the bar top, sending him sprawling.

The man she had hit over the head came at her brandishing the broken bottle, slashing at her. One of his attacks bit into the flesh across her knuckles, eliciting an angry scream from her. The cut was deep enough blood began dripping from her fingers, but her anger and the alcohol seemed to make her unaware for the moment. Using her good hand, she punched the man in the jaw hard enough he hit the floor and lay still.  
  
The one who’d called her a cunt was getting up now, still yelling expletives at her. As he ran at her, she grabbed his arm, twisted it behind his back in a vicious motion that may or may not have dislocated the arm at the elbow, and slammed him against the bar, pinning him down.  
  
“You fucking little c-”  
  
Pulling an unusual curved dagger from beneath the folds of her chain mail and leather coat, she drove the weapon into the wood of the bar within an inch from his very nose. The man went silent then and swallowed hard. When she was satisfied that her message had been received, she jerked the blade from the place it was embedded and returned it to its scabbard.  
  
“So much for a relaxing drink.” She muttered softly, pulling some gil from her pocket and dropping it onto the bar. The owner would find it was more than generous enough to cover any damages. Looking at her knuckles with a frown, she jerked a handkerchief from another pocket and wrapped it tight around the wound before looking around the establishment at the other patrons and storming out through the doors into the storm.  
  
_They’re not going to be too happy about this if it gets back to them_, she thought to herself. But it couldn’t be helped. Besides, she wasn’t the only one within their ranks who had gotten into trouble in bars.


End file.
